


The Angsty Lance Lords Club

by ttacticianmagician



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crossover shennanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Slice of Life, Sparring, a bit of worldbuilding, spoilers for 3H/SS/SoV/Genealogy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttacticianmagician/pseuds/ttacticianmagician
Summary: When Dimitri is summoned to Askr, he finds himself unable to connect with other Heroes. So he joins a peculiar group of lance-wielding princes known as the Angsty Lance Lords Club. Through lots of sparring, horseback riding, and group therapy, he ends up finding a side of himself that he didn't know about.Co-starring one shonen protagonist!Ephraim, one dad friend!Quan, and onemostlypartiallysomewhat redeemed!Berkut.
Relationships: Berkut/Rinea (Fire Emblem), Cian | Quan/Ethlyn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some chapters of this in January/February, then set it aside to work on other fics, then decided to return to it before the CYL4 banner comes out. I would love to finish the bulk of the story sometime soon, but we'll see where my muse takes me.
> 
> A few disclaimers before we dive in:
> 
> 1\. I have not played FE4/5, nor do I have Quan in FEH, so his characterization is based off what I can glean from the FE wiki. Tbh, everyone's personality is a little exaggerated for comedic effect, so I hope this won't bother some people.
> 
> 2\. I included a tag for spoilers, but in case you didn't notice it, this fic will contain spoilers for the games of the lance lords. This includes Three Houses, Sacred Stones, Shadows of Valentia, and Genealogy of the Holy War. 
> 
> 3\. Quan/Ethlyn and Berkut/Rinea are mentioned in the tags because they are actually together, but they won't be super important. This story will focus more on the relationship between the four princes.
> 
> 4\. Since I wrote this in Jan/Feb, a lot of this fic will be outdated in terms of new characters and weapons. For the purpose of establishing a timeline, this story takes place before FEH's 3rd anniversary.
> 
> I might add more disclaimers as I see fit. For now, I hope you enjoy reading this!

When Dimitri was first summoned to Askr, he didn’t know what to think.

He only came here because he answered a mysterious voice that requested for his help. He had no idea that he would end up in another world, filled with extraordinary men and women and dragons that ought to belong in legends. He didn’t know that he would be fighting in an epic war against fantastical foes he could never have imagined existed.

And he vastly underestimated the strangeness of it all. His allies, or Heroes as they were called, came from all walks of life. Some were mere commoners, some were royalty like him, and some were even gods and goddesses of their worlds. Some fought to get stronger, some sought the glory of victory, and some just wanted to return peace to this world. Yet everyone marched under the banner of the Order of Heroes without hesitation. To witness such camaraderie between people, even with their differences, brought joy to Dimitri’s heart. It reminded him that, perhaps, not everything was so bad.

That was before he learned that he was one of the few people summoned from the world of Fodlan. The summoner didn’t really have a reason why his world was so difficult to summon from. Dimitri strived to connect with those he recognized, but he soon found out that it was a harder task than he thought. Among the Fodlan Heroes, there was Edelgard, who didn’t want to talk to him for some reason, and her faithful retainer, Hubert, who followed her example and also refused to chat. Claude and his best friend Hilda were present, and Dimitri did get to spend some time with them, but they had their own missions to do, both from the Order and for themselves. Claude, for instance, spent most of his free time in the library, conducting research for days and nights upon end. Petra of the Black Eagles was around, but they didn’t have much in common. For some reason, the Death Knight was here, as well as an assassin named Kronya, who the summoner said was from Fodlan but he had never seen her before. These two villains made his skin crawl whenever he saw them, so he elected to keep a respectable distance between them. Then there was a mysterious girl named Sothis. She claimed to be the goddess of Fodlan, but Dimitri never recalled the Church text depicting the goddess as a young girl with pointy ears and emotions readily bared on her non-existent sleeves. He chose to not interact with her unless necessary until he found out what was her deal.

So the only people Dimitri could really rely on was Mercedes, who was always ready to lend an ear but couldn’t lend herself for a spar, and the Professors. Yes, there were two Byleths in Askr, one male and one female. Both of them retained their fighting prowess and stoic nature, so he didn’t mind the fact that there was an extra one at first. 

What did matter was the hard truth of Askr that he had to encounter sooner or later. Neither of the Professors were his Professor. The male Byleth led the Black Eagles house in his world while the female Byleth taught the Golden Deer house. When Dimitri first learned of this, he fell into a pit of despair. He confided a lot in the Byleth of his world, and he couldn’t bring himself to interact with these Byleths so freely. He feared what would happen if he was to reveal his darkest secrets to them. If they weren’t really his Professor, would they still aid him so readily? 

As if they sensed his concerns, the two Professors took him under their wing like he was their student anyway. Dimitri still acted a little reserved around them, but he figured that having one or two unfamiliar Byleths by his side was better than having none. They started running classes for the Heroes of Fodlan to ease them into their new surroundings, and later classes included other Heroes who wished to learn from the Ashen Demons. They also held more private sessions with students who wished to speak with them. It was during one of these one-on-one meetings that Dimitri confided in female Byleth a worry he had.

“Professor, I must first thank you for being so patient with me as I hone my horsemanship.” He said as Byleth sipped her tea. “But I feel as if I’ve reached my limit in your class. I don’t mean to say that you’re not good at teaching lancework and riding skills, but if I’m to be more useful to the Order of Heroes, then I wish to expand my horizons. What do you suggest I do?”

Byleth drank from her teacup for a long time. If Dimitri hadn’t known her, he would have assumed that he offended her and she was dealing with his slight in the most polite manner possible. Instead, he knew that she simply liked tea a lot, especially the flavor she had brewed for them today. Byleth mentioned that it was a specialty of Ylisse, one that she couldn’t find in her world for obvious reasons.

She set down her cup after a minute of contemplation and drinking. “You can train with the other Heroes.”

Dimitri nodded. Solid advice as always, but one that he had trepidations with. “I have considered that, but where would I start? There is an incredible amount of lance calvary Heroes and not all of them are readily available to practice with.”

Another sip. She must really like this tea, or she had much to think about. “I have heard from the summoner that there is a group of princes that meet every Monday and Thursday afternoon. They have a similar aptitude for lances and horses like you. Perhaps you should join them.”

“I did not know such a group existed. I would like to at least meet them, but I can’t very well barge into their group unannounced.”

“The summoner and I can arrange for introductions.” Byleth grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and started writing something. Once she was done, she handed it to him. “This is the time and place for their meetings, as well as their names.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri scanned over the names and titles of his future training partners. He recognized their names, but that was about it. He didn’t know about the worlds they came from, how strong they were, or even their faces. Not long after he started reading, he noticed a strange title at the paper’s header.

“The Angsty Lance Lords Club?” He remarked with a scowl.

“That’s not what I call them. The summoner came up with that name.”

“It’s not a befitting name for a group of princes though.” Dimitri sighed. He was aware of the summoner’s eccentricities, but it was startling to be reminded of them so brazenly.

“You can take that up with the summoner then.” Byleth shrugged. “But I do hope you attend. I think that you’ll find a lot in common with them.”

He hoped so too, as he made his way to the training grounds during the next Thursday evening. Dimitri usually didn’t train with Heroes not from his world for a multitude of reasons. One being that he would never forgive himself if he accidentally hurt someone with his brute strength. Another reason being that he didn’t want to hurt someone by involving them in his own schemes for vengeance. Like Claude, Dimitri had done his own research in the Order of Heroes’ library, but he was looking for information about the instigators of the Tragedy of Duscur instead of whatever topics Claude was interested in. Unfortunately, there weren’t many books on that subject since the Heroes of Fodlan were relatively new, and the books he did find didn’t help at all. He had hoped that perhaps the summoner or other senior members of the Order had information that wasn’t recorded, but they seemed oddly elusive for some reason. Like they didn’t want him to know certain things for certain reasons…

Whatever the case may be, Dimitri hoped that he wasn’t making a mistake by stepping through the doors. He was immediately greeted by the sound of clashing steel. In the arena ahead of him fought two men that appeared to be around the same age as him. One was clad in black, regal armor whose dark hue matched his hair. The other combatant sported bright teal hair and wore impressive blue armor with gold trimmings. Both of them displayed lance skills that were far beyond what was taught in Byleth’s makeshift classes. Dimitri actually felt a little out of place here, in his student uniform and with the lance he arrived in this world with. They were supposedly all princes here, but these two men carried a leaderly bearing that could only be honed through countless battles, a bearing that Dimitri had not gained yet.

The blue-haired man dodged a jab, then swung wildly with his own weapon. His lance connected to the dark-haired man’s chest. Fortunately for him, the tip only left a small dent and some scratches in his armor, but his enemy had struck him with enough force to knock him off his feet. The blue-haired man pointed his lance at the fallen man’s head, and the two remained still for a brief moment. Dimitri became concerned when a look of anger flashed across the black-haired man’s face. His worries vanished alongside that look as the blue-haired man pulled his lance away and offered a hand instead.

“That was a good fight.” The blue-haired man remarked with a faint smile. “You’re getting closer to beating me everyday.”

“It’s not enough.” The black-haired man snarled as he pulled himself up. “I cannot rest until I have beaten Alm.”

“Hey, there’s no need to bring him up right now. You should be focusing on your current opponent. Otherwise, there’s no way you could win against me.”

The two prattled on for a good while. It was as if they didn’t even notice Dimitri’s arrival. He felt more out of place than ever, and had half a mind to turn around and leave. But another voice called out before he did so.

“Ah!” An older man with brown hair and elegant black clothes approached Dimitri. “Are you Prince Dimitri?”

“Yes I am.” He nodded. “But please, you can just call me Dimitri.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Prince Quan of Leonstar, but you can just call me Quan.”

Quan’s introduction attracted the attention of the other men. They seemed sheepish over missing this new arrival. Or at least, the blue-haired man seemed sheepish. The black-haired man still seethed over his recent loss.

“My name is Ephraim.” The blue-haired man extended a hand to shake. “I’m the prince of Renais, but like the others, there’s no need to call me that here.”

“And I am Prince Berkut of Rigel.” The black-haired man softened his tone towards Dimitri, but it still had an edge to it. “Unlike the others, I still value my noble lineage, so you should at least refer to me as ‘Lord Berkut’.”

“Charmed.” Dimitri eyed Berkut warily as he shook his and Ephraim’s hands. He was reminded of several students in Garreg Mach who always prattled on about nobility. Except this guy seemed to take things a step further.

“Is that your lance?” Ephraim gestured to the spear Dimitri was holding.

“It is.” He held it up so the others could take a closer look at it. “It’s nothing special, just a silver lance from my homeland.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It looks incredibly well crafted and durable.” Ephraim regarded it with wide eyes.

“Not to mention heavy.” Quan said. “You must have incredible strength to wield it so casually.”

Dimitri blushed a little bit. He wasn’t used to such attention from other Heroes, especially ones that certainly had better weapons than him. “I admit that this particular lance was specially crafted for me, as I have a tendency to… be a bit rough with normal weapons. But it doesn’t hold any extraordinary power otherwise.”

“All this talk about the young prince’s lance is nice and all, but if we are to truly gauge his strength, then we must do battle.” Berkut twirled the lance in his own hands. “I’ll partake in the first match.”

“You’re calling dibs already? Then I want the second round.” Ephraim proclaimed with a smile.

“Hold a moment.” Quan piped up. “Let’s not overwhelm Dimitri on his first day with us.”

"It's quite alright. I would be honored to spar with the two of you." A smile crept up on Dimitri's face as well. After all, he wasn't here for inane chatter.

Berkut seemed raring to go, despite his earlier loss. His lance looked like a silver lance at first glance, but Dimitri quickly figured out that it was forged from something different. The way it gleamed reminded him of a well polished hexlock shield. If it had magic resistant properties like a hexlock shield, then it wouldn't do much against Dimitri's overwhelming physical might when he charged at Berkut. Berkut managed to block his blow anyway, then responded with an equally fierce strike. 

The two princes went at it for a while, allowing Dimitri to evaluate Berkut's style. He noticed that the prince of Rigel favored a defensive approach, focusing on blocks and counterattacks that struck at any vulnerabilities his opponent exposed during a charge. But unfortunately for Berkut, Dimitri had practiced a lot against defensive fighters like Dedue. He knew the best way to beat them was to let them initiate the attack first. He proved his theory right by landing a solid hit on Berkut during one of his charges. Dimitri's lance broke through his guard and shoved him to the ground.

"Damn it all!" Berkut spat out. "To lose twice in one day, and to be beaten by a mere child at that…"

"Don’t take your loss too harshly. You were a difficult opponent to beat. But I am just as old as you, aren’t I?" Dimitri could have stopped at the first part of his reply, but he couldn't just ignore Berkut's slight, especially when it was incorrect. The fallen prince only gave him a nasty glare in response before standing back up.

"Now it's my turn." Ephraim barely gave Dimitri time to rest before he grabbed his own lance. "Are you ready?"

"Of course." Dimitri slipped into a fighting stance yet again.

Ephraim's lance was unlike anything Dimitri had ever seen. It had many razor sharp points fanning around the main tip, giving it the appearance of a crown, was adorned with a red ribbon that flailed with every movement, and seemed to smoulder with an invisible, fiery aura. The halo of energy was quite unusual, yet it reminded Dimitri of the Hero’s Relics in Fodlan in some strange way. 

Despite the differences in their weapons, Ephraim himself moved similarly to Dimitri. They shared a reckless fighting style that consisted of fierce lunges, heavy swings, and a preference to dodging than parrying. But Ephraim’s brute force was too much for Dimitri to handle. Even though he thought that he at least matched Ephraim in terms of strength, Ephraim’s skill with the lance far surpassed his own. Dimitri couldn’t take advantage of any of his opponent’s openings, nor could he last against his relentless assault. Not long after they started the duel, Ephraim jabbed at Dimitri’s chest and brought him down the same way that he brought down Berkut.

“Well fought.” Ephraim exclaimed and extended a hand. “You did better than Berkut did.”

“Er, thank you?” Dimitri took his hand. At least his sparring partner looked just as winded as he did.

“Excuse me?” Berkut interjected with an indignant tone. “I lasted longer in our fight than he did! How could you possibly say that he did better than me?”

“It’s true that our duel took longer, but you never came close to gaining the upper hand against me., while Dimitri almost bested me several times during our match.”

“Truly?” Dimitri thought that he was losing miserably the entire time.

Ephraim nodded back without hesitation. “We have similar fighting styles, so I can tell that you put in a lot of effort into your training and you have a lot of natural potential. If you stick with me, you’re sure to improve by leaps and bounds.”

“If you stick with  _ us. _ ” Quan chimed in while turning his gaze towards Dimitri. “Remember that there are two other lords in this club. Even though Ephraim may have the most similar style to yours, it would also benefit you to learn from people with different aptitudes.”

“Of course.” Dimitri was reminded a little bit of the unofficial mantra of the Officer’s Academy. The enrolled students came from all over Fodlan, not just from one nation, so that everyone could learn from each other. He supposed that was even more true for the Order of Heroes, which drew members from multiple worlds, not just nations.

“That is why I wish to spar with you as well, to prove what I told you.” Quan hefted his own lance into his hands. “But only if you wish to continue. I know it’s tough to fight three challenging battles in a row.”

“I can continue.” Dimitri straightened himself to appear ready for action. “And I happily accept your challenge!”

Dimitri sprinted towards Quan and opened the fight with a wide swing. He quickly learned that Quan’s greater experience showed through his textbook perfect techniques and efficient movements. He conducted complex maneuvers that worked around Dimitri’s brute strength naturally, and was able to shift flawlessly from offense to defense and vice versa. It felt like Quan's fluid style was in between Berkut’s steadfast style and Ephraim’s reckless style, but that didn’t mean he was middling by any means.

And Dimitri wasn’t even taking his lance into consideration yet. Quan’s weapon of choice was a three-pronged spear with a whip-like ribbon wrapped around its shaft. Its broader tip allowed Quan to deflect attacks with ease and made it harder for Dimitri to avoid any sort of contact with the shimmering metal. It was the perfect weapon to complement Quan’s abilities. And, like Ephraim’s lance, it exuded some kind of unearthly aura that suggested there was some hidden power in it, a power that Quan thankfully did not bring out for this practice fight.

Seeing as his heavy blows were easily dodged, Dimitri opted to go for stealthier jabs. The change in strategies caught Quan off guard, enabling Dimitri to hit him with the blunt of his lance, but his successful strike left less of an impact than he’d like. He expected such a blow to stun Quan long enough to follow up with a more powerful stab. Instead, he left himself wide open and had his legs swept out from under him.

Dimitri grunted as he landed on the ground again. His lance clattered next to him. With Quan’s help, he picked his lance and himself off the floor and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

“You’ve already taken my advice to heart by adapting to the situation. Well done.” He remarked with a faint smile on his face.

“Thank you.” Dimitri forced himself to say. He did appreciate the practice he was getting, but it still stung a bit to be so soundly beaten. In Fodlan, the only person that could put up this much of a fight against him was the Professor.

Quan continued to speak as if he sensed his unspoken concerns. “Don’t feel too bad about losing so much today. Everyone has room to grow, even for combat veterans like us. In fact, I’m a bit jealous of your position. You’re so young and haven’t seen any sort of war, yet you fight like the best of us.”

“Is that what you think?” Dimitri didn’t realize how harsh he sounded until those words left his lips. He couldn’t help but sound a little irritated, when Quan must not have known of the ferocious battles that occurred during his year at Garreg Mach. He didn’t know of the uprisings, the assasination attempts, the cruel experiments, his gauntlets that were stained with blood far before he attended the Officer’s Academy-

He blinked those thoughts away when he saw Quan flinch. Dimitri hoped that he didn’t startle him with a dark expression that slipped through his princely facade.

“I must apologize if I have offended you.” Quan told him. “I meant those words as a compliment, not as belittlement.”

“No offense taken. I understood what you intended.” Dimitri hurriedly sought to brighten the mood with a small smile. 

“And besides, you didn’t do too badly.” Ephraim butted in. “You’ve beaten at least one foe. That’s something to be proud of.”

Dimitri heard Berkut muttering something under his breath. He decided not to linger too much longer on the subject to spare Berkut’s wounded pride.

“So, am I accepted into the Angsty Lance Lords Club?” Dimitri struggled to say that with a straight face.

“Er, yes. You are.” Quan seemed taken aback by the utterance of their title.

“But I do want to point out that our matches today weren’t tests of admission.” Ephraim said. “We were already set on welcoming you to the club. We just wanted to gauge your strength.”

“That’s very kind of you. I thank you all for spending time with me today.”

“You’re very welcome.” Quan bowed his head a little bit. “Next time, we’ll meet in the fields by the stables to evaluate your horsemanship. I have heard from the summoner and Byleth that this is a skill you are working on…?”

“That is correct.”

Berkut scoffed. “I’ll have you know that I am much more adept at mounted combat. When we face each other next, do not expect victory to come so readily.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Dimitri replied, unphased by the vague threat. “Although, I do have one more question I would like to ask…”

“Yes? What is it?” Ephraim responded.

“Why is this group called the ‘Angsty’ Lance Lord Club?” Dimitri placed emphasis on the first word of their title. “I am aware that the summoner came up with this name, but do you three really seem that troubled…?”

“I think the summoner just likes to exaggerate traits to make a funny title.” Ephraim shrugged. “But I suppose we also have a sad backstory in common, along with our love for lances and horses. Even though I personally think my history is not as gloomy as others.”

“Ah.” Dimitri couldn’t help but wonder what sort of background each person had. Did they also suffer from the deaths of family and friends? Could they also not live with the blood that they spilled, or that was spilled for their sake? Those questions threatened to escape from his throat, but he choked them down at the last second. He couldn’t bring that up during his first meeting, even if their words suggested that they might actually understand.

“Perhaps we can tell you more about ourselves later.” Quan said without missing a beat. “But it’s getting rather late. You don’t need to stay here and listen to us bemoaning our fates.”

“Right.” Dimitri spared a glance towards the setting sun. As much as the idea of sitting around and swapping stories appealed to him, he had other matters to attend to. 

He bowed to the three other princes one last time. “I must thank you again for having me. I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”


	2. Weapons and Bloodlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was everyone's luck with the CYL banner? Hopefully you guys were luckier than me. :P
> 
> As a reminder, this chapter takes place before Berkut got his prf weapon and refine.

Dimitri tugged hard at the reins of his horse, causing her to whinny in protest. He was trying to pull himself and his mount away from the duke knight, but couldn't dodge his attacks quickly enough. Quan jabbed his lance forward once, twice, three times, with each strike meeting its mark all over Dimitri’s body. The prince of Faerghus yelped and lashed out with his own lance. It missed Quan completely. He retaliated by swinging his weapon gracefully, smacking Dimitri’s chest, and then bringing its tip to Dimitri’s neck while he was stunned by the blow.

“I yield.” Dimitri muttered, as if that wooden lance could actually pierce his throat. Quan brought his lance down, his determined expression giving way to a less stern one.

“Why did you try to dodge?” He asked. “I didn't leave you with enough space to do so. You should have parried instead.”

“It was by instinct.” Dimitri answered. “I am so used to fighting with lances on foot, I forget that while on horseback, I have two bodies to account for.”

He gave his horse a pat on the neck, as if to apologize for his forceful behavior earlier. The grey mare nickered and flicked an ear, having already forgiven him already.

Quan couldn’t help but smile and pet his own horse, a white stallion unblemished by any markings. “That sort of thinking will spell your demise on a real battlefield. It was good of you to recognize your mistake now.”

“I have you to thank for it.” Dimitri said as he brandished his lance once more. "Let’s keep going. Come at me like you did before, so I can learn to parry instead of dodge."

"Very well." Quan hefted his own lance and charged.

The two princes went at it for a little while longer. Suppressing the urge to stand his ground instead of stepping away was easier said than done, but Dimitri thought he was making some progress. They then switched gears so that Dimitri could practice his offensive maneuvers. Barreling straight towards the foe at high speeds was more his style, but Quan was just as adept at avoiding such attacks as he was making them. Still, Dimitri kept going, refusing to let up until he managed to score a single hit on the older man. As his horse galloped in a half circle to build up momentum, that determination pulsed through his veins and accumulated into a single, powerful swing that moved too quickly for Quan to dodge. A symbol made of blue light flashed over Dimitri’s chest right before his lance smacked into Quan’s side and launched him off his horse.

“Quan!” Dimitri tossed aside the wooden splinters that were once his weapon and dismounted. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to knock you off your horse!”

“Argh. I’m fine.” Quan rubbed where he was struck. It was lucky that Dimitri opted to go for a swing rather than a jab, otherwise he would have skewered his opponent. “I don’t think I have broken anything. I’ll just be sporting a nasty bruise for a while.”

“I’m very sorry about that.” Dimitri repeated as he helped Quan stand up.

“There’s no need to apologize.” Quan shook his head. “You fought with everything you had. That is the best I can hope for as your training partner, even if it means getting knocked off my horse.”

“And that's a sight you don’t see everyday.”

Ephraim’s cheery voice alerted them to his and Berkut’s presence. At some point, they must have ended their training session together to watch Dimitri and Quan fight. Dimitri thought that the latter would have been embarrassed about falling in front of them, but he took Ephraim’s comment in stride.

“How did your match go?”

“I won.” Ephraim proclaimed with a smug smile. “But Berkut is getting better at going on the offensive. He only lost because, well, I’m better at that than he is.”

Berkut didn’t have anything to add. He just seethed wordlessly. Dimitri felt a bit sorry for the prince of Rigel. It seemed like he was outclassed by these two like Dimitri was. And then Dimitri managed to beat him in their first spar together. To be defeated by a newcomer and have your inferiority cemented further… no wonder he was so prickly all the time.

Apparently Quan was conscientious of Berkut’s unspoken feelings on the matter. “No matter the outcome, both of you did a great job. Let’s take a break before we continue.”

He handed out waterskins to everyone while he grabbed a vulnerary for himself. Dimitri gratefully gulped down the cool liquid that soothed his parched throat. As the four of them sat down on nearby benches, Quan focused his attention on Dimitri. It looked like he was still thinking about their last fight.

“Dimitri, pardon me if this is a sensitive subject, but I am curious about the flash of light that powered your attack. Is it a magic spell?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s my Crest.”

“Crest?”

“In my world, Crests are powers granted by the goddess unto heroes of a past war, the 10 Elites. Those powers were then passed along to their descendants, and became the bloodline of many noble families. The Crest I have is called the Crest of Blaiddyd, which is also the symbol of the royal family of Faerghus. It grants unfathomable strength, but it leads to a lot of destroyed weapons, as you have probably noticed.”

“Interesting.” Quan nodded. “We have something similar in the world of Judgral, called Holy Blood. It isn't visible in a flashy way like your Crests, but those with Holy Blood do have exceptional abilities, including the ability to wield a Holy Weapon.”

"A Holy Weapon? That sounds like the Heroes' Relics of Fódlan." Dimitri recalled the lance that Quan used during their last meeting. It gave off a mysterious yet recognizable aura. "Is your lance one of them?"

"Yes. The Gáe Bolg was once the weapon of the one of the 12 Crusaders, Njörun, whose blood flows through my veins."

"It seems like our worlds are more alike that I realized." Dimitri thought out loud. "Crests and Holy Blood, Heroes' Relics and Holy Weapons, 10 Elites and 12 Crusaders…"

"It's quite fascinating, isn't it?" Quan tilted his head. "And I doubt that our commonalities end there. So if you have a Crest, do you also have a Heroes' Relic?"

Dimitri gave him a hesitant nod. "It's called Areadhbar. Although it's really nothing like your Gáe Bolg. It requires a Crest Stone to unlock its full potential, firstly, and it looks like it's made of bones rather than steel. I can't wield it yet due to my age, but when I become king of my country, I hope to do it proud."

"I'm sure you will." Quan replied, just as Ephraim inserted himself into the conversation.

"A bone weapon? I can't say I've ever seen anything like that."

"I have." Berkut interjected. "The two Byleths possess a sword that looks like a spine, do they not? And that pink haired girl with twintails also has an axe of the same material."

"Heroes' Relics are not crafted from actual bones." Dimitri corrected them. Goddess knows what he would think of them if they were. "They just look like that. There's no way they could last throughout the centuries if they were."

"Fair point." Ephraim conceded. "I prefer my Flame Siegmund over bone weapons anyway."

"Is that the weapon you used during our first meeting?" Dimitri asked.

"Yes it is." Ephraim smirked. "Well, its original name was just Siegmund, but it was upgraded here in Askr and became even stronger. So I call it Flame Siegmund now."

"The Order of Heroes can even upgrade legendary weapons?"

"Not all of them." Ephraim shook his head. "But the blacksmiths here are very creative. They're finding new ways to forge other weapons every month or so."

"I do not mind the current condition of Gáe Bolg, but I do hope that it can be upgraded one day." Quan piped up.

"It would be incredibly exciting to have your weapon gain new power. I hope that your Holy Weapon will become able to upgrade too."

“Thank you.” Quan replied before Ephraim continued on.

“My lance is one of the Sacred Twins of Renais. Its counterpart, Sieglinde, belongs to my twin sister Eirika. We don't have any special blood like you or Quan, but the royal family of Renais are the only people that can use these weapons.”

“Even if you don’t have any special blood, it still feels like a powerful weapon in your hands.” Dimitri remarked. “I suppose you also have some sort of equivalent to Fódlan’s Elites or Jugdral’s Crusaders in your world?”

“Right you are. Magvel has the Five Heroes, legendary warriors of an era past who once wielded the Sacred Twins in order to defeat the Demon King and found the nations of our world.”

Dimitri wondered if every world that the Order of Heroes could summon from shared this much similarities. Could it be that Fódlan, Jugdral, Magvel, and so many other realms were connected to Askr because they shared an underlying theme of legendary weapons and historical figures? Or maybe it was the other way around, and these worlds were so alike because they were connected to Askr? 

Those were the sort of questions that Claude would love to figure out, but they just made Dimitri’s head spin. He turned to Berkut out of curiosity anyway.

“Berkut, does your world have any weapons or bloodlines like ours?”

Berkut averted his gaze and scoffed. Dimitri got the feeling that this was a touchy subject for him. He was about to apologize, but Berkut ended up responding to his question.

“In terms of legendary weapons, the Rigelian Empire only has the Falchion, a sword given by Duma himself. Only those with the Brand of Duma can wield it and, consequently, become the Emperor of Rigel. I unfortunately do not have such a privilege. That sword, and the mandate to rule, went to  _ that peasant boy _ …”

Berkut snarled his last line through clenched teeth. Quan attempted to lighten the mood by patting the fuming prince on the back. “But birthrights and such don’t mean as much in the Order of Heroes. Everyone here is regarded equally. No one needs a legendary weapon to succeed.”

“That’s right.” Quan’s words managed to calm down Berkut, although there was still an edge in his voice. “I can best Alm without a fancy blade. I will win by my own power.”

“I thought you did have a signature lance of sorts, though.” Ephraim mentioned with a smirk.

“That is not  _ my _ lance.” Berkut hissed. “Like I said, I will win  _ by my own power _ .”

Dimitri had no clue what they were talking about. Judging from how incensed Berkut was, however, he didn’t bother asking for an explanation. Luckily, Berkut ended the conversation by standing up and twirling the lance in his hands.

“I tire of this vapid prattle. Are you three going to keep on talking, or will we continue our training?”

“Actually, I was thinking of sitting out the next round.” Quan said. “My body still aches from my last match with Dimitri.”

“Sorry.”

“I told you before, there’s no need to apologize.”

“I have an idea.” Ephraim spoke up. “How about Dimitri and Berkut face off against me?”

“What?” Dimitri gave him a puzzled look while Berkut scowled.

Ephraim pointedly ignored those lukewarm responses. “That way, all three of us can train at the same time.”

“And Berkut and Dimitri can practice fighting alongside a mounted ally.” Quan mentioned.

“But it doesn’t seem like a fair fight?” Dimitri protested. Even though he hadn’t had the chance to ally with Berkut yet, it seemed obvious that a two-against-one battle would not end well for the one person.

“Nah.” Ephraim waved off his concerns by shaking his lance. “I’m actually at my best when I’m at a disadvantage. So think of having a partner for this match as evening the playing field, rather than getting the upper hand.”

“If you say so.” Dimitri still had his doubts, but it looked as if Ephraim and the others made up their minds. Once Dimitri grabbed a new lance, the three lords seated themselves back into their horses’ saddles. Dimitri glanced over Berkut and his horse, which was garbed in the same black armor as his rider. It seemed like Berkut had reigned in his temper enough to be able to fight rationally. But as evident from the sneer he received back, Berkut still wasn't ready to be amiable with Dimitri.

Ephraim was on them in an instant. He first targeted Berkut, who he apparently assumed was the weaker of his two opponents. Berkut successfully blocked the attack, then jabbed out twice in quick succession. While Ephraim was focused on dodging those stabs, Dimitri galloped in and slashed with his lance. His attack connected, causing the blue-haired prince to falter. As he let out a grunt of pain, the corners of his lips turned upwards into a smile.

“Not bad.” He muttered. “Let me see more of that!”

Ephraim turned his attention to Dimitri this time. He was once more subjected to Ephraim’s brutal onslaught that never seemed to end. Dimitri didn’t know how it was impossible for someone to move so fast and powerfully on both foot and on horseback. He tried to keep an eye out for Ephraim’s weak points, like he did during their first encounter, but he had a harder time taking advantage of them. It didn’t help that Berkut was basically on the sidelines, watching and waiting for moments to strike. When he did decide to charge in, Ephraim either dodged or shrugged off his blows.

A lapse in his assault gave Dimitri time and space to back off. He retreated to Berkut’s side. “Why aren’t you helping me?” He asked with a glare. “You're better suited for defending, not me!”

“And let you deal the finishing blow? As if.” Berkut replied back just as curtly. “You seem to be perfectly capable of defending. I think it's best for you to take the brunt of his attacks, and then I will finish him off once he is weakened.”

“Hold on! What kind of strategy is that?” Dimitri yelled just before he deflected a swing from Ephraim. The force behind that hit made his wooden lance creak. He had to put more distance between him and Ephraim in order to have enough time to speak with Berkut again.

“It's perfectly sound.” Berkut glowered. “After all, you have your  _ goddess-given powers _ to help you, do you not?”

“Ngh! That’s not-” Dimitri was interrupted by Ephraim yet again. There was an inscrutable look on his opponent’s face, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dimitri would have a hard time believing the words that came out of Berkut’s mouth too, if he wasn’t right next to him. This man was a prince, so surely he had to act more honorably than this!

“I can't use my Crest in this fight! If it doesn’t work, then I'll break my weapon and then both of us are definitely finished!”

“Hey! You guys are done for if you don’t start working together!” Ephraim called out. “Take this!”

Without warning, the tip of Ephraim’s lance started glowing red as he approached them with blinding speed. To Dimitri’s surprise, he had switched opponents and was now aiming at Berkut. The new target also appeared astonished. He could only hold up his lance, in hopes of mitigating most of the fiery strike with a simple block.

Dimitri knew that Berkut wasn’t going to survive like that. He reacted without thinking, spurring his horse into action, and ended up in between Berkut and Ephraim. The latter’s lance lunged towards Dimitri’s chest right as a starry insignia lit up over it. Dimitri placed all of his Crest’s strength behind a single, desperate attack. He didn’t care if this was going to end badly for him. He just needed to save Berkut-

The two lances connected with the other prince’s chests. Dimitri’s lance shattered as it collided against Ephraim’s armor, while Ephraim’s lance drove Dimitri out of his saddle. The blonde lord groaned as painful heat radiated from where he was struck. Just because Ephraim’s spear was wooden didn’t mean that his injury hurt any less. He opened his eyes a bit to see if he managed to at least knock Ephraim off his horse, like he did to Quan. Sadly, the prince of Renais remained seated and stared down at him with wide eyes.

“Are you alright, Dimitri? I was meaning to teach Berkut a lesson, not you-”

Another lance appeared out of nowhere and swung into Ephraim’s chest with enough force to bowl him over. As Ephraim fell to the ground, Berkut let out a sinister cackle.

“Let  _ that _ be a lesson to you.” He lorded over Ephraim. 

“Berkut, that was a low blow.” Dimitri should have been glad that they managed to prevail, but not if they had to resort to such cowardly tactics.

“No it wasn’t. I told you my plan, did I not?”

“I wasn’t shielding you because of your plan. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“What?” A look of amazement crossed Berkut’s face before it quickly faded back into his usual scowl. “There was no need to protect me. I could have endured that attack. Better than you did, at least.”

Dimitri was getting tired of Berkut’s haughty attitude. He tried to lift himself up, but the pain from Ephraim’s hit still pinned him to the ground. To his surprise, Berkut got off his horse to help him up.

“But I suppose I should be grateful that you followed my plan, even unwittingly.”

“You’re welcome?” Goddess, this man was hard to read. Dimitri wasn’t sure if there was a heart beneath his black armor and scornful personality or not. Actually, Berkut was a bit like Felix in a way, only he didn’t have a brother’s death to excuse his poor manners.

“Hmph. At least you two managed to cooperate in the end.” Ephraim stood up with the aid of Dimitri. “But know that if we were really on the battlefield, I could hardly call this a victory. You shouldn’t have to let someone take a fatal blow for you in order to win.”

“Ephraim is right.” Quan walked up to the three of them. “There are the rare situations where a sacrifice is called for, but that should only be a last resort. An ally who falls in battle now cannot come to your aid later. And that is not mentioning the effect such a loss has on loved ones. During war, the people who die are not just casualties, but also family and friends.”

“I understand.” Dimitri stated while Berkut gave the slightest of nods. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but it sounded like Quan was speaking from personal experience when he advised them. Did he have someone die for his sake too? Dimitri didn’t vocalize that question out of fear of hitting the wrong nerve, and of bringing back phantoms he tried to suppress.

“Good.” Quan said simply. “I think we all had enough practice today. Let’s head to the infirmary together to make sure no one has sustained any serious injuries.”


	3. The Prince of Rigel

Another day with the Angsty Lance Lord Club meant another day of hard work, and Dimitri appreciated every minute of it. He has only been going to these meetings for a few weeks, but he was already improving by leaps and bounds. His spearwork was more refined, his control over his horse got better, and he enjoyed spending time with Heroes that were quickly becoming his friends. Well, Ephraim and Quan were becoming his friends. Berkut still had yet to warm up to him. Dimitri had a feeling that the prince of Rigel had a deeper chip on his shoulder than he thought, one that he couldn’t figure out by asking him. He had hoped that by training and conversing with him, Berkut would open up eventually, but Dimitri's patience wore thin first. He had to know what was going on in that head of his, especially when Berkut stormed out the training grounds after Ephraim had beaten him yet again.

“I never saw him this upset before.” Dimitri remarked as he helped put away the training equipment. “Did something trouble him today?”

“The real question is when  _ isn’t _ he troubled by something.” Ephraim huffed. “He’s been here in Askr the longest out of any of us, yet he still can’t get over his problems.”

“Some people have great difficulties with overcoming their personal challenges.” Quan gave Ephraim a disapproving stare. “You should be more understanding.”

“I am understanding. I’ve tried to help him improve and become friends with him, yet he always gets these outbursts.” Ephraim sighed. “I thought that after he reconciled with his cousin, everything would be alright, but he’s still as touchy as usual.”

“Who’s his cousin?” Dimitri chimed in. He felt awkward, talking about someone behind his back, but he really wanted to know the answers that have eluded him for so long.

“Alm. He's the green-haired boy in blue armor and a headband that carries the Falchion.” Ephraim responded.

“There’s a lot of Heroes that possess the Falchion. But I think I know who you’re talking about.” Dimitri tried his hardest to remember the boy he described. He saw him in passing a few times, but never had the opportunity to speak with him. If it weren’t for his armor and his large sword, he would have looked like a normal village boy.

“That Falchion… It’s the one Berkut was talking about earlier, the sword that belongs to the Rigelian royal family. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“So if Alm has it and not him…”

“I’m not going to imply that Alm stole Berkut’s birthright. But from Berkut’s point of view, that’s basically what happened.” Ephraim sighed again.

“I think I understand… But I don’t, really.” There were a lot of gaps in Dimitri’s knowledge that needed filling. “Would you be able to explain what actually happened?”

“I can try my best, although it might be better for you to talk to someone from Valentia or to visit the library. You might want to sit down for this.”

Ephraim gestured towards the bench and both princes sat down while Quan continued tidying up the training grounds. Ephraim hesitated for a little bit, pondering over what to say with thoughtful hums, before he finally got started.

“You already know that Berkut is part of the Rigelian royal family. Being Emperor Rudolf’s nephew, he was expected to be the heir to the throne. But Rudolf actually had a son, Alm, who was raised in the neighboring Kingdom of Zofia as a commoner.”

“How did that happen?” Dimitri asked with wide eyes. He couldn't fathom what would cause a son and father to separate.

“I’m not really sure why.” Ephraim shrugged. “I heard that Rudolph sent Alm away as an infant for some reason. Anyway, through a series of coincidences and circumstances, Alm becomes the leader of the Deliverance, a resistance army that fought against crooked Zofian nobles and the invading Rigelian army. He clashed with Berkut several times as he freed Zofia from Rigel, then marched into Rigel itself to end the war. When Alm defeated Rudolf, he revealed the truth about everything and said that he always intended for Alm to be his heir. As you can imagine, Berkut was devastated.”

Dimitri just nodded. He could sympathize with Berkut, even though he never went through that sort of despair personally, because he was distinctly reminded of Miklan. Born without a Crest in a family that valued Crests above all else, he was passed over in favor of his younger brother, Sylvain. Miklan took his anger out on the brother who stole his future, and then when he was kicked out of House Gautier, he stole their Heroes’ Relic and became a Demonic Beast. Such a terrible fate not only traumatized their class, but also reminded them of the cruel world they lived in. If Miklan had a Crest, he would have led a much better life. At least Berkut wasn’t driven to commit those kind of vile acts just yet.

As if to prove him wrong, Ephraim kept going with his explanation. “And that’s not the worst part. Fueled by despair, he sacrificed his fiance to the fell god, Duma, in order to gain the power he needed to kill Alm.”

“He did what?”

“He became completely evil, all for the sake of reclaiming what he thought was his.” Ephraim shook his head in disgust. “But Berkut wouldn’t have been worthy of the crown even if he did succeed. He was much too prideful and arrogant, and placed too much value on strength. And when his whole world shattered, he took the worst possible path instead of using this chance to improve himself."

Dimitri struggled to keep a calm facade as Ephraim explained Berkut's descent into madness. The cries of his fallen family and friends that once thrummed under his skin as dull discontent grew louder and clearer. His heart was completely repulsed by what Berkut did, but it was hard for his mind to agree with his heart when the ghosts that plagued it actually supported such actions. 

_ "Now there's a prince that can get results." _ The voice of his father whispered into his ears.  _ "When everything was taken from him, he didn't snivel and cower like you. He took the matters in his own hands. He craved blood, no matter the cost." _

_ "Father, please. Not now." _ Dimitri begged silently.

"Hello? Dimitri?" Ephraim gave him an odd look. “Are you feeling alright? I didn’t know that this story would bother you so much.”

“I’m not bothered.” Dimitri forced his stilted tongue to work properly. Ephraim's clear voice silenced all the others, leaving only a headache in their wake. “But I am wondering… If Berkut did all that, then why is he, er, sane here?”

“Because this Berkut comes from a time before he discovered the truth.” Ephraim continued on as if nothing was wrong with Dimitri. “Then Alm revealed the truth about everything to Berkut anyway.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t as bad as Ephraim suggests.” Quan spoke up as he approached them. “My friend, Sigurd, is partnered with Berkut frequently. He told me that after the reveal, they managed to make up quite amiably.”

“And yet, Berkut still seethes when Alm or special powers are mentioned.” Ephraim rolled his eyes.

“I know this sounds hard to believe, but Berkut was even ruder before they reconciled. If you mentioned Alm in front of him, he would pick a fight rather than fume silently.” 

"I can imagine that." Ephraim nodded. 

"It helps that the knowledge of his terrible fate haunts him like a ghost." Quan continued on. "Now that he knows what will happen if he doesn't improve himself, he's driven to not repeat the same mistake twice."

"I would even say that his terrible fate  _ literally _ haunts him." Ephraim joked.

“A ghost, huh…” Dimitri ended up lost in his own thoughts again. It frightened him that he and Berkut both had their darkness cling to them like a second shadow. If they were alike in this regard, then would he succumb to darkness like Berkut did? Would he sacrifice the ones he loved just to kill someone? There were no fell gods in Fodlan to sacrifice loved ones to, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t carry out such horrendous deeds by himself. 

And yet, Berkut recovered. He accepted his most hated foe, the one who stole his life and future from him. Could Dimitri do the same? That was a nice idea, but he wasn’t sure if he was able to do such a thing. Berkut’s enemy, Alm, was a kind soul that ended a war, while the ones who killed his family and friends in Duscur were villainous monsters, through and through. 

Dimitri was so deep in thought, he almost missed what Quan had to say. “All I ask of you two is to not judge Berkut so harshly. He is not the same man who committed the dreadful crimes written in history books. In Askr, we are given the opportunities to right ourselves. Not just because we get stronger, or gain knowledge of the future, but because we find allies that can lift us up during our darkest times. Berkut isn’t exempt from that. None of us are.”

Ephraim let out a chuckle. “You have quite a way with words, Quan.”

“Only because I speak of what I believe in.” Quan smiled in exchange. 

The pealing of bells effectively ended their conversation. Quan glanced skywards, then at the other two lords. “Hm. It seems like this club has become a place to bare our feelings as well as our lances. Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“Indeed. I suppose we all have to air our grievances once in a while.” Ephraim stood up and stretched. “It’s just too bad Berkut wasn’t around to vent. Gods know he needs to.”

“Give him time. He will at least be attending the next meeting.”

“For someone that supposedly dislikes our company, he certainly is punctual when it comes to our club.”

As Ephraim and Quan chatted some more, Dimitri quietly got up. He had half a mind to leave without saying goodbye, even though it would be rude to do so, because he had a lot on his mind. He was still thinking about Berkut’s backstory and the various opinions on it. His mind turned their words over and over, tumbling it like how a river tumbles a stone. Within those words, he wanted to find the answer that would cast all his doubts aside and allow him to live like a normal person. But his brain was just a muddled mess right now, especially when the two princes kept on talking.

“Dimitri.” Quan’s voice pierced through the mess. “May I have a word before you part?”

“Certainly.” Dimitri turned to face him.

“I am aware that you’re a newcomer, but please don’t be afraid to speak about anything that bothers you.” Quan’s voice was so sincere that it dropped Dimitri’s guard. “I know it can be tough to do so, but I’ll always be here if you need someone to listen to your woes.”

“I’m here for you too.” Ephraim butted in. “After all, who else can help angsty lords but other angsty lords?”

“Thank you.” Dimitri nodded. He almost let slip the doubts that tormented his mind and the darkness that dwelled in his heart. But he still couldn’t bring himself to mention them.

“Also, perhaps it would do both you and Berkut good to get to know each other better." Quan added. "You shouldn't have to learn everything about him from us. I bet he will open up to you sooner than you realize, and once he does, you'll find that the two of you have more in common than you think.”

“I’ll try.” Dimitri stated simply. He gave a vague response not only because Berkut wasn’t the most pleasant man for conversations, but also because he had his own concerns about whether he could do this. Still, after Quan’s heartfelt speech, he had to give it a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being mostly exposition, but it was also nice to delve into the commonalities between Dimitri and Berkut. Next chapter will see a return to shenanigans~
> 
> Also the next voting gauntlet has Dimitri vs Berkut in the first round lmao


End file.
